


Brief Encounter

by rain_sleet_snow



Series: My Family (And Other Dinosaurs) [13]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-31
Updated: 2009-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Lyle meets Emily Sayers in a stuck lift, and gets yet another You Be Good To James, Or You Die Painfully talk. It’s probably all Lester’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brief Encounter

            She got into the lift.

 

            She pushed a button.

 

            He got into the lift.

 

            He pushed a button.

 

            The doors closed.

 

            The lift began to move.

 

            The lift... stopped moving.

 

            The man and woman in the lift waited in diplomatically awkward silence for a while, before they realised that the lift actually wasn’t going to move any more, and got restless. The blonde woman blinked rapidly and an innocently puzzled frown found its way onto her face; the man, taller, darker, and grumpier than she, thumped the side of the lift experimentally and growled a swearword.

 

            “Oh, _totally_ ,” the woman said, with warm agreement. “James is going to be so pissed off that I’m late, it doesn’t even bear thinking about.” She heaved a short sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “I do hope you aren’t claustrophobic; we may be here a while.”

 

            The man shot her a sharp glance. “James?”

 

            She quirked an eyebrow at him. “The man I’m going to see.”

 

            The expression that flitted onto his face was shock, but a blank mask quickly followed it. “Are you going to the fourth floor?”

 

            “Ye-e-s,” the woman said cautiously, drawing out the word as if it could do her an injury if not properly subdued.

 

            “James _Lester_?”

 

            “Yup,” the woman agreed cheerfully, and then started, literally bouncing in three-inch heels, and clapped her hands with a squeak of joy, blue eyes sparkling. “Don’t tell me you’re the infamous _Jon_! That would be _too_ \- oh, oh my God, you _are_!” She giggled, and held out one rather square, blunt-fingered hand, smiling confidently into his eyes. “Emily Sayers. I’ve heard so little about you!”

 

            Stunned, Jon Lyle shook hands, and stared at her. She was short, although the heels helped, and dressed smartly in a very tailored skirt suit; good-looking, maybe in the late thirties, although she talked like a babbling twenty-something, mouth running ahead of her brain and laughter in her voice.  He wouldn’t have thought she was James’s type, but...

 

            He _really_ hoped he was not going to be introduced to James’s ex-girlfriend. He really hoped that that wasn’t why James had invited them both here now, if she’d been invited- but she’d said that James would be cross that she was late.

 

            “You were expecting to hear something about me, ma’am?” he enquired, falling back on Joel Stringer’s number one Rule for dealing with the general public, which was that nobody minds being addressed as sir or ma’am, except that mad cat lady who had shrieked and gone for Lacey, scythe-like fingernails extended, but that was neither Stringer nor Lacey’s fault.

 

            She grinned at him and shook her head, tucking one strand of short blonde hair behind her ear. “No. James is totally refusing to talk. He wouldn’t even tell me if you were hot, which I see you are-“ she gave him a frankly appreciative look- “-if very taken, woe, alas, etcetera. I mean, you’re my _best friend’s boyfriend_. It doesn’t get more taken than that.”

 

            “What?” Jon managed, reeling.

 

            She gave him a sympathetic look. “Would you like a moment to regain your inner Zen before I try and explain?”

 

            “Yes, please,” he said, and leant against the lift’s wall, cheeks faintly stained with embarrassment and heart thudding, while she pressed the button for help and communicated briefly with some kind of maintenance man. When she’d finished, she turned back to him.

 

            “They think they’ll have us out in ten minutes and they’ll ring up to James. All Zenned out?”

 

            “I’m fine,” Jon said gruffly.

 

            She treated him to an appraising look. “You’re not. Never mind; you will be.” She smiled at him again. “My name is Dr. Emily Sayers. I’ve been James’s best friend for a couple of years now, since his divorce, and we were quite good friends before that. I suspect I’m probably his only friend who is neither a work colleague nor related to him, and we have a Friday takeaway thing where I turn up with a bottle of wine, we order a takeaway, and we bitch about whatever takes our fancy. I found out about you because I have spider-sense and, really, having seen James misanthropic and sex-starved for ages, it does not take a genius to work out when he is a) happy and b) getting laid. I did the whole Spanish Inquisition thing, but he so wasn’t having it, and then I got this invite to dinner... which I presume is a carefully staged meeting.” She paused. “Are you with me so far?”

 

            “Yes,” Jon said, working this out in his head, “er... Dr. Sayers?”

 

            Emily smiled yet again; she seemed extraordinarily cheerful. “Call me Emily, hon; everyone does. Also I call everyone hon, sweetie, darling, and petal, so don’t let it bother you.” She leaned forward, blue eyes wide and serious. “There is something _very important_ you should know. James goes a _really interesting_ shade of pink if you call him petal.”

 

            Against his better judgement, Jon snorted with laughter, and saw an answering grin spread across her face.

 

            “I have yet to work out why,” she conceded, “but in every life a little mystery should happen; keeps things interesting. And another important thing, but this one is actually serious.”

 

            “Yeah?” he said warily, watching her carefully.

 

            “Make that two,” she said, holding up one finger. He noticed that both her hands were ringless. “One: I am not competition; I have never, ever, ever slept with James, nor do I intend to, I do not want bitchery in my bed.”

 

            Jon bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to laugh, and nodded seriously. Part of him was very relieved; although she hadn’t seemed James’s type, for a while he really had thought he was dealing with an ex-girlfriend.

 

            “Two – and this is very, very serious indeed – you had better behave towards James like a gentleman, by which I do not mean give up kinkiness because kinkiness between two consenting partners can be a light unto the world I am sure, but that you are not to cheat on him, you are not to lie to him about fundamental things like previous partners and your feelings towards him, and you are most _certainly_ not to break his heart. James, much though it does not seem like it, appreciates honesty. He also appreciates knowing you care about him, and I don’t care how you manage that, just do it. On the other hand, if your feelings for him are not as strong as his for you, then call a halt.”

 

            She took a deep breath, and stared into his eyes, her own suddenly flint-sharp chips of ice. “James is my closest friend. I want him to be happy. If you make him unhappy, then I will personally  cut your balls off, stuff one down your throat and the other up your arse, if it can get past the crowbar that will already be there.” Disturbingly, her voice remained bright and cheery. “Some of us have done the heartbreak thing. Some of us have done it so definitively that there is just no way we’re touching that shit again, and if it happens to someone we care about, we kill it with fire. _Don’t_ become that shit, Jon.”

 

            “What gives you the right to talk to me like this?” he demanded, feeling as if he’d been through a mangle.

 

            Emily shrugged, menace abruptly –and disconcertingly- leaching from her. “The right that I care about James. The right that Ralph rang me up yesterday, in a flap that his baby brother was getting into another relationship too soon, without properly mending from the last one, and he told me that if I met you I was to give you the third degree, on both his behalf and my own. Weird, right? His spider-sense must be better than mine.” She laughed, and shook her head, as if clearing herself of the last dregs of threat. Jon wished he could wipe out his shakiness after that episode as easily. “Now.” Her voice was clear and confident, her posture neutral. “I can be your friend, and tell you all the goss about James and all the many stupid things he has done in my presence, and I can also sympathise when he’s being an arrogant stick-up-arse, which he is, sometimes. Or... not. I personally speaking would prefer to be your friend. Liz seems to like you, which is usually an indication of brilliance, lovely girl, that, and so far you are quite a fun person to share a lift with.”

 

            “Right,” Jon said weakly. “Thanks.” He stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath and held out a hand. “Truce, Dr. Sayers?”

 

            “Allies?” she offered, shaking it for the second time, with a huge smile. “And call me Emily, pet. We have a mutual acquaintance to gang up on.”


End file.
